作曲 : Ole Alexander Myrholt ...

A wounded soul leaps highest

I've heard the poet tell

'tis but the ecstasy of death

And then the breath is still

As I lay, defeated, I'm dying

Longing to have you near

As I lay, defeated, I'm dying

Longing to have you here

The smitten soul that gushes

The trampled heart that springs

A wearied ghost that keeps running

From where the torment stings

Mirth is the prelude to anguish,

And laughter is its final aim

Lest some f**ker spot the wicked

And do not fail to exclaim!

As I lay, defeated, I'm dying

Longing to have you near

As I lay, defeated, I'm dying

Longing to have you here

Success is counted sweetest

By those who never succeed

To comprehend a fame like this

Requires sorest need

Not one of all those f**kers

Who rose the flag today

Can even tell the definition of fame

So pure, of victory